Rosalind laughed.
"He pounded on the door and said he was going to rescue you and marry you. He danced with you in the meadow, he saved your life."
Rosalind began to pace, while Gwen continued her speech. "Isabelle was taken by the Beast, and his music spoke so richly to our sister that she was lost in him. She saved him, and in return his love for her is the strongest I've ever seen one human have for another." She took a shuddering breath. "What are the odds that that type of love would happen thrice in this family?"
Rosalind flushed and looked down. "It could happen. He looks at you…"
"Like any man would look at a woman he is attracted to." Gwen shrugged. "Sister, I know it is difficult for you. But you need to understand, there isn't always a white horse. There isn't always a faraway kingdom and a castle. Sometimes there is no one to save. And sometimes, the princess has to marry the mask before there will ever be hope to love the man."
"The mask?" Rosalind asked. "Whatever do you mean?"
"I imagine Hunter as a little boy lost in the woods. When he first set out on his trip, he had someone to fight for, something he was running toward, and when that thing shattered before his eyes, he became lost. He fell into himself and confused himself, for the monster had destroyed what he loved so dearly. He is both Hunter and Wolf. Beast and man, and he is lost. Therefore, even if he loved me or said he loved me, it would not be the type of love you experience. To ask for his love right now would destroy what shred of humanity he still possesses, and I love him…" Gwen closed her eyes and crossed her arms protectively around her chest. "I love him too much to ask for it."
Rosalind's face broke out into a bright smile. "You love him?"
"I am not sure. I mean, does love feel like you want to both kiss and strangle the object of your affection? Does it create so much unrest within your own body that you feel you are losing your mind? Is love so strong that I have a perpetual head and stomachache?"
"I had a headache for three days when I met Stefan." Rosalind smiled and looked down. "I also had several fantasies of hitting him across the head with his own pistol."
"I've had that one, as well." Gwen sighed happily. "I am not sure if my love trumps my desire to cause physical harm to his person. Most of the time he drives me so crazy I merely react out of frustration rather than love, but I imagine Hunter does not understand any other way to communicate than fighting and innuendo."
"He's a man." Rosalind shrugged as if that explained everything.
The room fell silent.
Rosalind pulled Gwen into a tight hug. "Sister, it will not be easy, loving a wolf. The minute you get close, they tend to snap. Just remember it is out of defense, for a wolf fears man. Men are always a symbol of death for animals. Therefore you must tread carefully." Rosalind released her and sighed.
"Have no fear, dear sister. Wolves also love the thrill of the chase, the smell of blood and meat. I imagine my trap will be sufficient for him. And if all else fails, I'll merely take off my dress and use his own lust against him."
"Brilliant!" Rosalind clapped her hands. "Now, we only have a few days. Let us get our trousseau together. We shall stop by Isabelle's. Would you like me to tell her the news, or would you like to announce to your sister and the Beast that you are marrying one of their dearest friends?"
"I nominate Hunter."
"Good girl." Rosalind winked.
Chapter Twenty-four
Red—
I too dream of blood. I dream of killing, of lies, of violence and greed. But most of all, I dream of her. Of how I could not reach her in time. Dreams are a cruel thing, for this certain dream gives me hope that one day I will be on time, one day I will save her from death. Yet it always ends the same. I am holding her body in the street, and she is gone.
—Wolf
After leaving Montmouth's residence, Hunter made his way toward Wilkins' establishment. If he wasn't already privy to the information surrounding Redding's accident, then he needed to be. The last person to see Redding alive was most likely Hollins.
It took a half hour to reach the townhome.
The wind whipped Hunter's jacket around him as he made his way toward the stairs. He knocked twice.
No answer.
He knocked again.
Still no answer.
Biting back a curse, Hunter walked back to his carriage and made his way toward Dominique's residence. Now would be probably a better time than most to announce to the man that he was, in fact, marrying his wife's sister.
Perhaps he should send ahead a note to make sure all weapons were hidden.
Hunter grinned just thinking upon it.
Truly he should be anything but amused at this point.
Someone had shot at him, his dead brother was very much alive, a murderer was on the loose, and Redding was dead.
Yet all his ridiculous brain could think upon was the taste of Gwen's lips, the way her soft body felt pressed against his.
He told himself to stop grinning. That it was ridiculous and quite rude, considering a man had died today.
But it could not be helped. He looked at the dreary streets of London and for once his mood did not match what he saw. No, the blasted world could be coming to an end, and he would still be in his carriage, smiling.
The carriage pulled to a stop in front of Dominique's townhouse. Hunter cleared his throat and tried to think upon what he needed to do. The minute he pressed his lips together another grin broke out.
It was useless.
Which was why, when Samuel the infuriating Russian butler opened the door, Hunter felt the need to finally get the man's name right rather than irritate him beyond reason.
"My good man." He slapped the butler on the back. "Is the Beast at home?"
Samuel groaned and rolled his eyes. Perhaps it was impossible for Hunter to be normal. Perhaps it was because the man was Russian, which immediately made Hunter want to say something annoying. After all, he was conditioned to do so with all Russians. Just ask Dominique.
"In the study." Samuel pointed and wandered off.
"Thank you," Hunter yelled at the retreating butler's back. A grunt was his only response.
Hunter sauntered over to the study and knocked on the door.
No answer.
Was no one at home today?
And then he heard it.
A blunt object was suddenly pushed against the back of his head and the all-too-familiar click of the hammer being pulled back gave him pause.
"Explain," Dominique said in Russian.
He only spoke in Russian when he was truly upset.
"Has something happened?" Hunter asked in English.
"It is about to," Dominique ground out. "You have three seconds."
"Listen—"
"One."
Hunter tried to turn around, but Dominique pushed him against the wall.
"Two."
"Fine!" Hunter held up his hands and cursed. "What is it you want? And stop pointing that thing at my head! Devil take it, you are not even giving me a chance to speak!"
"One cannot speak if one is dead." Dominique cursed in Russian, then pulled the pistol back from Hunter's head. Though the minute the pressure was relieved, he kicked Hunter in the leg, causing a shooting pain to run from his calf all the way up his spine.
"What the devil is wrong with you?" Hunter flipped around and glared at his friend.
"I should ask you the same." The pistol was still pointed at Hunter's body. Brilliant. Perhaps he would get shot twice in one week! One could only hope.
Hunter could not fight back the grin. Truly, it was the worst time in the history of his lack of self-control to actually be unable to restrain himself.
"If you took advantage of her, slept with her, I swear I will shoot you and never look back." Dominique sneered. Ah, so he was to negotiate with a beast.
Well, he was a wolf, after all.
With a quick movement, he knocked the pistol out of Dominique's hand. It fell to
the floor in a clatter as Hunter punched Dominique in the stomach. Was it his fault his fist slipped and nailed his best friend on the chin?
Cursing, Dominique came at him, fists flying. Within seconds they were on the floor wrestling one another.
"Heavens, what is all that noise?" came Isabelle's soft voice, and then the woman cursed. "Unhand each other this instant."
Dominique looked up at his wife. Hunter took advantage and landed a blow to his friend's jaw. Murderous outrage reflected in Dominique's face as he thrust his head against Hunter's, causing his body to slump to the cold hard marble.
"Isabelle? What is all that noise?" Another figure appeared. Though the voice was feminine, Hunter could not be sure if it was another person, or if he was suffering merely from double vision.
"Dominique!" Gwen yelled. "Kindly remove yourself from my future husband!"
"Not until he's dead." Dominique cursed and grasped at Hunter's cravat, winding it tightly into his hand. To breathe was the very devil. To be fair, Hunter hadn't expected this reaction from Dominique. Now, Montmouth? That was another story entirely.
"I said release him." Gwen pushed Dominique off of Hunter and glared. "Truly, what has gotten into the both of you? Acting like rebellious children! Whatever happened to talking?"
Hunter pointed at Dominique. "He tried to shoot me."
"He struck me first!" Dominique argued.
"And my horse is bigger than yours," Isabelle said dryly. "Now, husband, explain." She glared daggers at Dominique. Hunter shifted nervously on the floor, suddenly feeling quite lucky that he wasn't married.
"He ruined her." If Dominique pointed his finger one more time in Hunter's direction, he was going to snap it in half.
"Actually…" Gwen winked at Hunter. "It is I who ruined him… for all other women."
There it was. That blasted grin. Though his face hurt like the devil, it decided to make an appearance again as his eyes greedily took in Gwen and her defense of him.
"And it only took two minutes," Hunter added helpfully.
"At most." Gwen sighed.
"What the devil is going on? And Hunter, I swear by all that is holy, if you lie to me, I will end you." Well, at least the bloke was speaking in English now. That had to be a good sign, didn't it?
"I'm a spy!" Gwen blurted, just as Hunter opened his mouth to speak. Was she planning on saving him all day or was this just a phase?
"Your grace." Samuel cleared his throat, taking in both bloodied men sitting on the floor, and shrugged. "This came for you while you were out."
Hunter winced as he rose to his feet and took the letter. He carefully opened it and cursed.
Redding dead. Meet tonight at 7, The Horse and Hare.
"Dead," Hunter mumbled and looked directly at Gwen. She paled and nodded her head just once.
"We only have two left. Two men." He held back the information about Hollins and Wilkins. She did not need to know the specifics. If anything, he wanted to keep her in the dark. He wanted her alive. "It is imperative that we find out who it is, Gwen, especially considering we are to be married."
Ignoring the gaping mouths around him, Hunter walked over to Gwen and kissed her hand. "We will find him. We have to."
"But you were shot and…" Gwen shuddered.
Hunter sighed and pulled her into his embrace.
She exhaled softly. "You were afraid of losing me. You thought you had. But what—" Her voice caught. "What if I lose you?"
"Wolves are like cats, love. They have nine lives."
"—though I imagine he's outlived all of his," Dominique interjected. "Now, will someone please explain why you two seem so familiar, and why Gwen felt the need to lie about being a spy in order to save you, Hunter?"
"She didn't lie." Hunter released Gwen and turned toward Dominique and Isabelle. "But perhaps this is not the time."
"It is never a good time for one's lies to unfold," Dominique said through clenched teeth.
Isabelle cleared her throat. "Gwen? Why don't we let Rosalind know we are ready for Bond Street? I imagine she's finished taking her tea."
Gwen looked at Hunter and gave him a nod of approval as she walked off with Isabelle, leaving Dominique glaring at Hunter like a madman.
"Oh, do stop glaring. You'll give yourself a headache."
"Too late." Dominique cursed. "Though I blame you, not the glaring." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I imagine this will take whiskey and a whole lot of talking. White's?"
Hunter sighed in relief. "Best idea you've had all afternoon."
****
Hunter fidgeted with the glass in his hand as Dominique took another sip. "I imagine you want me to apologize for pointing a pistol at your head."
"That would be nice."
"Forget it." Dominique cursed. "How was I to know the entire story? Is her family aware of her activities for the Crown?"
Hunter set the glass down and leaned back into the plush leather of the chair. "If they did not before, they will soon."
"Hmm." Dominique lifted the glass to his lips and winced as he took a swig. "Does she know?"
"Know?" Hunter repeated.
"About Lucy."
All it took was the mention of his dead wife's name and the smile, the one that had become a permanent fixture on his face during the entirety of the afternoon, faded away. "Not everything."
"And Ash?"
"Somewhat. Only that I had a twin brother I thought dead, nothing more."
Dominique set his glass down and leaned forward. "I imagine I am the last person you would ever think to give marriage advice, but it would be wise for you to tell her of your past, sooner not later."
The smile had turned into a frown as Hunter thought of his past, of the gory details. Was he ready to be that vulnerable with another human being? Dominique knew all his secrets, but up until a few months ago, he'd had his own demons to face.
Now it seemed that Hunter was alone in his darkness. It would be life's cruelest joke to find another woman in his life only to bring her down into the pit he so casually resided in.
"And if I cannot tell her?" he finally asked, not wanting to look Dominique in the eyes as he said it.
A sigh escaped Dominique before he picked up his whiskey and took another long swallow. "Then you may as well leave again."
"Leave?"
"Yes, leave. As in quit the continent. My friend, you do not want to live in a marriage that is one-sided. Where the woman you care about gives of herself until it hurts, where you hold back pieces of who you are. In the end, it will end in the death of her spirit and the death of your soul. Your marriage deserves the best chance it can get. All things considered, by not telling her of your past, you shoot yourself in the foot before you take one step toward that altar."
"When did wisdom suddenly give you the benefit of its blessing?"
Dominique chuckled. "Easy, I married her."
"Cheers." Hunter held up his glass. "To women."
With a laugh and a clink, Dominique finished his glass. "To women!"
"Huzzah!" a few men shouted behind them.
Conversation shifted to Dominique and his family, as well as Hunter's upcoming nuptials, but as much as Hunter tried, he couldn't find the smile that had plagued him before. The pressure of the world seemed to cave in on him. The minute Dominique had opened his mouth and spouted off all that ridiculousness about being honest with one's wife was the minute Hunter found it not only difficult to breathe but also blasted hot.
It was not fair to keep such things from Gwen, but fear has its way of keeping him from moving forward.
In that moment, Hunter saw everything within his reach. A woman who would both challenge and ignite him. A life filled with the comfort of being around his friends. The life that, not nine years ago, he had lusted after and strived for was once again within his reach.
So why couldn't he have it? What was causing this panic?
Nine years ago, he had felt happy, free, his smile as wide as it h
ad been today, and in an instant he had lost it all.
When God chose to bless a person, it was both frightening and wonderful. For one had to wonder, when everything was going right, when everything was perfect, were you only one step away from disaster?
Excusing himself early, Hunter left and went in search of the Horse and Hare. He knew what he had to do. He had to solve the mystery of the ciphers now. If not, he shuddered to think of what hung in the balance.
His future happiness and Gwen's depended on his success and this time, he would not fail.
Chapter Twenty-five
Wolf—
I imagine she is quite content to be in your dreams. Perhaps you should think upon that instead of the blood and death. Think of the very idea that this woman, this love, is in your dreams every night, exactly where she desires to be, for dreams are directly connected to one's heart. And it seems that her heart is yours for the taking.
—Red
The establishment was poorly lit and filled with more drunks than Hunter cared to surround himself with.
He quickly moved through the crowds of gentlemen slapping one another on the back and belching, and sat down.
"You're early," a voice said behind him. Was everyone sneaking up on him these days? Perhaps retirement truly was in the cards for him.
He waited until Wilkins sat down across from him.
Wilkins looked quite normal for having just lost a very important part of his case. "Redding is dead, as you well know."
"Yes, which only leaves us Hollins, considering we traced a smuggling ring back to Trehmont — nothing there."
"I would not discount Trehmont." Wilkins appeared thoughtful. "After all, he is just desperate enough for the money to do it."
Hunter nodded. "But he has been making quite a lot of blunt from his smuggling. Why would he need more?"
Wilkins shrugged. "Greed. A person always wants more. Wouldn't you agree?"
Something shifted in the air. Hunter examined Wilkins' face. He appeared tired, but not upset or even depressed that he had lost Redding.